


To All You Restless

by WolfVenom



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Denial, Emotional Hurt, Gift Fic, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Loss, M/M, Memories, Not Beta Read, Pain, Regret, Reminiscing, Short, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: It has been many summers since, but Aymeric always treasures celebrating Valentione's Day.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	To All You Restless

**Author's Note:**

> lil gift for lumi as thanks for the estimeric food~ please forgive any spelling or grammatical errors, as well as lore mistakes. its been a long time since ive played heavensward haha!

“ _Happy Valentione’s Day, Estinien_.” Aymeric says, gazing out the window of his bedchambers dressed in naught but his night clothes and sleep still crusted around his eyes. He wipes away the offense with the back of his hand and blinks into the morning sun, a gentle smile on his face as he watches Ishgard slowly stir against the horizon. 

There is no response. Aymeric sighs at his lover's usual grouchiness, before turning on his heel and making way to wash up and get dressed for the day ahead. After all, Valentione’s was one of his favourite holidays. Estinien would always grumble and groan, shying away from dawn kisses and Aymeric’s silly teasing, allowed to be disgustingly mushy and affectionate on this one day a year. He is not here right now, but Aymeric knows Estinien is relieved that he has escaped Aymeric’s loving attention with his travels. 

Ever since peace has made its home in Ishgard there has been much to do, and Aymeric puts himself wholly into the task. Francel remains busy in the Firmament, and Aymeric helps when he can, but politics do take up much of his time. Every so often he will catch a glimpse of Ehll Tou’s red scales flitting to and fro in the cobble, eagerly absorbing all the architecture and way of life around her, her little friend scrambling to keep up with her flight on two legs. 

Aymeric greets Lucia as he enters the congregation, her eyes pinched and brows furrowed. Aymeric ignores her sympathetic expression and attends to his duties. With a significant portion of Ishgard’s army focusing on rebuilding and peacekeeping, there are a few he deigns more of use put towards the Alliance, and with Ishgard now under watch of dragons, there is little threat to the city from the Empire as of now. 

As the doors to his office close behind him, Lucia comes to his side while he reaches for a stack of papers at his desk, skimming the contents before deftly pulling those deemed most important to the top of the pile. She is thankfully silent for the time being, but he can see there are words struggling to get through the tight purse of her lips and she focuses on the ground. Eventually, all diplomatic matters have their contracts signed and missives written up in little time, so Aymeric invites his second with him on his usual patrol through Ishgard to take in the restoration efforts. 

It is as they pass by The Last Vigil in the Pillars that Lucia finally speaks up, as if a bubble around her has burst.

“How do you fare, Ser Aymeric?” She questions. 

He can’t say the concern catches him off guard. She’s asked him this question numerous times already, even if for the life of him he can’t remember why. So he gives her a reassuring smile and replies, “As well as ever, I would hope.”

Yet, she remains unconvinced, a tautness to her posture that is starting to worry Aymeric. 

“Truly?” comes the whisper, nearly inaudible. She refuses to make eye contact, “It’s been a while since he left, you know… I don’t know if I can handle seeing you waltz around like this anymore.” 

The Lord Commander shifts his weight, puzzled. “Yes it has been a while. However Estinien is a free soul, as fleet as the wind. You cannot truly grasp it, nor can you ever tell where it is going to go next. When he is ready, he will return. I know he will.” 

Lucia sucks in a breath, eyes tight and wet. “Aymeric-...”

He waves her off with a hand, returning to his walk with a smile. Lucia obediently falls into step, but she says naught a word even as they return back to the congregation. There is a gathering of folk conversing amongst themselves inside, one of which Aymeric instantly recognizes as Francel, who spots him with a grin and approaches with a courteous bow. He explains that it appears that the Firmament was proceeding nicely, and discussions of the next step are underway.

Aymeric beams, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully we can find homes there for those misplaced by the fires in the Brume ‘ere long. However, I am afraid I have another pressing matter to attend to. Could I request Lucia hear you out in my stead?” 

With a nod, Francel agrees, and Aymeric bids them both farewell as he exits the Congregation.

As his blue and gold ensemble disappears, Lucia and Francel spare one another a look of pity. “It’s been two years since we’ve told him. It gets harder every day to see him acting like nothings wrong,” Lucia mumbles.

“Aye… But need I remind you of the Warrior’s immense grief following the passing of Lord Haurchefant. They were never the same afterwards,” Francel feels the familiar twang of sorrow deep in his chest at the mention of the late Haurchefant, “Still, mourning takes many forms, and lasts many years. We can but support him while he comes around to accept it.”

Grimacing, Lucia knows Francel is right. But in her heart is a painful swell that won’t go away every time she remembers the look on Aymeric’s face when he received word that the previous Azure Dragoon had fallen whilst fighting bravely alongside the Warrior of Light.

  
  


***

  
  


As dusk swiftly approaches and matters of the day are handled, Aymeric enters his room with a content sigh and divests himself of his armour. He recalls a time so long ago where he and Estinien would remove one another’s heavy plate and mail under the stars, massaging away the red lines bored into flesh from hours of wear and pressing butterfly kisses to scars beneath. Would that he could fall into the memory of it now, but whenever Aymeric thinks too hard of Estinien, trying to remember the feel of his snowy hair between his fingers or the rough edges of scales along his hip left over from Nidhogg’s corruption, it gets harder and harder to clearly see what was once so permanently imprinted behind his eyelids, forever in his mind. 

But he can only tuck himself into his cold, empty bed, stare up at the moon, and wish Estinien a happy Valentione’s Day, wherever he may be in Eorzea now, praying for a swift return to his arms. 

A return that will never happen. For Estinien Wyrmblood has been dead for nearly three years now. And Aymeric de Borel could not cope with the grief his passing wrought. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Happy Valentine’s Day!~ xoxo_


End file.
